Sectumsempra
by considercareening
Summary: The scars Draco bears are more than he can contend with. When forced to face orders he wishes not to comply with Draco Malfoy turns to Harry Potter claiming that he is owed. HPxDM/KindaAU/HPBSpoilers
1. Prologue: Prelude of Discourse

**Prologue**

_"Sectumsempra!" _

_The last thing he remembered was Harry Potters face as he realized what he had done. Horrified by the blood that soaked every fiber in his shirt, Dracos eye's rolled shut. Just before blacking out he forced them open once more, through flickering spots and shuddering eyelashes he could faintly make out professor Snape just above him. Never had he felt something so terrible in all his life, pain like this was too unreal, weak hands clutched and pulled at his shirt. A horrible cry pushed through his wet throat, the taste of copper on his tongue make him sick to his stomach. Whispers above him and cradled arms melded together and no longer could he make out what was real and what was a delusion. _

_When next he woke Draco was alone. The curtains around his bed in what had to be the school's infirmary were drawn. Time was lost to him, he had little idea how many days it had been. All he knew was his throat burned; he needed water. The blond rolled onto his side and reached for his glass, a sharp pain shot from his chest and he flinched, knocking the glass to the stone floor where it shattered. Something wasn't right about this, he should have healed already. Shaky fingers pulled up the thin fabric of his infirmary gown to reveal a horrible series of raw scars across his once perfect flesh. A weak noise, most likely a groan escaped his lips and he released the gown and sunk back into his mattress. What he could recall of the spell was its foreign nature. Draco, even with having dealt with dark wizards had not heard that incantation. He would have questioned it further had he not been swept up in the waves of exhaustion that now plagued him. The last thought in his head before he surrendered to sleep once more was that Potter would pay for what he had done._

* * *

One month. He had counted the days numerously. The plan was going swimmingly, the cabinet was almost functional enough to transport a wizard. Each time he worked on it the closer it came to the day. If it were not for the Dark Lord he would have considered sabotaging it. It wasn't that the plan went against his morals, Draco had little problem with the thought of killing Dumbledore, it was more the common knowledge that the Dark Lord was hardly satisfied and this job was only given to him out of spite for his fathers failure. Malfoy's weren't stupid. Draco was sure his mother saw it just as plainly as he, and for that reason he loathed what was put before him.

Options were slim. Either he did what he was told. Bring the Deatheaters to Hogwarts and Dispose of Dumbledore, or the alternative. A plan so weak that he was almost sure it wouldn't play to his advantage even when he began to enact it. There he was, eye to eye with the portrait of the fat lady. It was rumored to be the Gryffindor portal, and if it wasn't taking him a great deal of contemplation he would have been able to man it up enough to knock and find out.

His pride ached from such betrayal. Not in a million year would he ever thought he'd go crawling to Potter. It was so very absurd he had half a mind to turn tale and continue as told. It was then his pride fought back and told him if he didn't go through with this there was a very likely possibility he'd be dead in a few years time and he just couldn't let that happen, now could he?

His knuckles nearly scathed the paintings face when he heard a familiar voice just behind him.

"What are you doing_ here,_ Malfoy?"

With a scowl he was sure Harry expected Draco replied, "ah, Potter. Just the insufferable git I came to see. May I speak with you in private?"

As usual Ronald Weasley was glued at the hip to Harry. No matter the hour it was deemed impossible to find one without the other.

"Get stuffed Malfoy." Ron spoke through a mouthful of junk food. Draco couldn't help but cringe.

"No. Thanks, seems you're already doing it and I wouldn't want to copy a Weasley. I have a reputation to hold up. That's something you would know nothing about. _Now-if-you-don't-mind _Harry, I'd like to have a word with you."

Begrudgingly Harry nodded, "catch you later, Ron."

* * *

Harry seemed even more amused then Ron had been. Draco couldn't blame them. He liked neither of them, and it was only expected they would feel the same. Pleasantries were something Draco was unfamiliar with, so starting this conversation in a way that would capture Harry's interest without pissing him off proved rather difficult.

"Look, Potter, You _owe _me."

Not off to a bad start, in Draco's opinion.

"Owe you?" Harry laughed. It was hard for the boy who lived to grasp the concept that he owed one of the most horrible he had ever met anything.

Draco paced, arms crossed. When Harry finished laughing he turned to face him and in all seriousness mentioned a single phrase – no – single phrase, " sectumsempra."

Whatever humored expression Harry had worn before was gone now with no trace.

"Get on with it, What do you want Malfoy?"

Draco lifted his piercing gaze to meet Harry's. His lips were drawn tight and his arms tightened their hold.

"I need your help. Severely. I have no where to turn and as much as I'd hate to admit it you're all I've got."

Harry motioned for him to continue.

" I have been initiated into the Deatheaters," Harry gave him a look that plainly read as he expected no different, " well, I'm going to be. But I have been given a task to complete first."

Draco looked around himself and deemed the empty hall as too risky to divulge such information publicly. With out remorse he roughly latched onto Harry's arm and pulled him into what seemed a rather useless nook. Under his breath he spoke, "I have to kill Dumbledore."

Out of instinct Harry shoved Draco roughly. Finding himself grabbing at Harry's arm for balance Draco blurted, "Now wait a minute. I didn't say I was going to do _it_." The look in Harry's eyes made Draco feel that what he done was a mistake and soon he'd be rotting in a cell beside his father before he could blink. Harry settled and the blond felt it the opportunity to continue.

" Like I mentioned, I don't want to do it. The Dark Lord hopes – and I know he does – that I will fail. He wishes to punish my father for what happened at the Ministry, and he supposes that by taking his only son and only blood heir he will succeed. I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill in the Dark Lord's name, and you, Harry Potter, happen to be the only wizard I know capable of getting me out of this."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

Draco was getting flustered. It took a lot to make him lose composure, it seemed the risk of telling such a secret to Harry Potter was enough. "I don't know! Tell Dumbledore, tell anyone! Find me a place to go so I don't have to return to them. If I don't do what I was told I will _die, _just incase you didn't get that through your thick skull."

"How can I even trust you?" Harry approached Draco, brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. It was a side of the boy who lived that not many saw. If it weren't for the severity of the moment the Slytherin might've found it impressive.

"How do I know this isn't apart of your ploy? What if Voldemort sent you to tell me this so that you could get in, so you could be his little spy?"

" Ha!" Draco laughed in Harry's face. "If this had of been the Dark Lords plan do you think this would be the story I'm telling you now? It would not be something as plausible – as real – as killing Dumbledore. It's common knowledge the Dark Lord wishes him dead. The plan to kill him would be one so secret and so well worked that it could not be spoiled. He thinks he has me in a vice. He knows I have no where to run, no where my pride would let me run. This plan in his eyes is fool proof. It couldn't be false. And above all else, why would he ever think that I would be able to get into your group? If he wanted a spy he would have chosen someone who had an easy in. Someone acceptable. Not Draco Malfoy, the Dark Lords joke."

It wasn't what Draco had said that made Harry believe him then, it was the look in his eyes, normally they were so cold and indifferent, but now they were begging. Harry saw the fear, the desperation. It looked as though Draco Malfoy was about to break, and Harry knew then something had to be done. The threat was real. He watched the breathless boy try to compose himself as he mustered a coherent response.

"All right, okay. I believe you." It was earnest. The boy who lived, the savior of wizards and witches alike was now metaphorically lending a helping hand. It was instinct to push it away but Draco knew he must accept it.

" Good." It wasn't the most thankful response, but again the look in Draco's crystalline hues betrayed him.

**Authors Note: **Trying out something a little more creative this time. R & R's appreciated!


	2. Stranger things have happened

Since his third year Harry had dreamt of spending his summer holidays at Grimmauld place. It was far from Privet drive as he could get, and before Sirius' death, it was most like home. It was amusing – not really – that the summer he finally was allowed to stay there was not for pleasure. The plan to keep Draco safe required someone to keep eye on him, and seeing as Harry had inherited the place after his Godfathers death, Dumbledore assumed there was no better a host. Unlike the members of the Order, Harry could stay there all summer which proved useful by many means. Even it was considerable that Harry staying within the Orders grasp was a good idea, Privet Drive may not be so safe during these times. So it was decided, and Harry knew then that his dream of having any sort of pleasant summer was out the window. He would not even get his end-of-summer Burrow stay, which was always something he looked forward to. Instead he would be stuck under the same roof of the most insufferable git to walk the halls of Hogwarts, praying and waiting for the members of the Order to drop in from time to time so he could get some sort of social satisfaction. It was unfathomable for Harry to picture a summer with only the company of Draco Malfoy and Kreacher.

It was chilly still, the skies were gray and it had seemed to have rained recently. Lovely London weather, as always. As soon as they stepped off the platform Harry had to say goodbye to his two best friends and head off to meet with Draco Malfoy. They were instructed before they left school that someone from the Order would be picking them up and escorting them to Grimmauld Place. The distance between Kings Cross and number 12 was by no means long, but to ensure the safety of the two wanted boys, it was essential to have someone receive them. It was that had come to get them and escort them by muggle means. It was best in London to move about as inconspicuously as possible. was the suitable candidate seeing as he was the only one out of the Order who could handle a muggle car, the only one with earnest desire to. Harry didn't mind it in the least, he had always liked Arthur Weasley, he was like family. During the ride Arthur rambled on mostly about work and the heavily cursed objects that he had to deal with. It was a warning of what was to come.

"Just last week we got a terribly cursed oil-lamp. You wouldn't expect it but the damn thing nearly put a Tilda Stillwell, from muggle relations, in a coma. You know things are getting bad when they have the guts to go after the ministry." Arthur pushed up his glasses. His expression was forlorn, and Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Surely he saw many terrible things in his department, and it would only get worse.

Harry glanced in the side mirror, Draco was sitting in the back seat gazing out the window. Thankfully the slytherin had the decency to keep his mouth shut.

"That's terrible." Sadly it was the only thing Harry could manage to respond with.

* * *

They arrived at Grimmauld place not a moment too soon. It was painful for Harry to see the crumbling face of the apartments. For some reason the place seemed darker and lonelier than it ever had. There was no longer anything enchanting about number 12 squeezing between 11 and 13, it had lost its magic when Sirius had died. Now it only brought up painful memories and caused Harry's feet to feel heavier then lead as he approached the doorsteps.

Arthur kindly helped Harry with his few things to the door while Draco was left to tote his exuberant amount of baggage alone. It seemed ridiculous to Harry that anyone would bring so much to Hogwarts considering they almost exclusively wore uniforms. Harry decided against helping Draco, he was sure if their roles were reversed Draco would do the same. It was petty, sure, but Harry didn't care. Their school rivalry was mostly petty at best. When everything had been brought inside and the boys were safely settled Arthur turned to Harry and apologetically took off his hat.

"I'm sorry I can't stay a bit, Harry. Molly wants me home for dinner, I'm sure you understand."

Harry nodded, offering an agreeable smile, "it's fine, don't worry about it."

"I'll be off then," headed towards the door. He paused, turning on his heel to look at the two boys, "you both better stay out of trouble. Someone should be by this week to check on you. See you soon!"

Almost as soon as Arthur was out the door Draco had to open his mouth.

"That was an awful chauffeur, _really, _didn't bother to help me with any of my things." The blond stood with his hands on his hips, a single snide brow quirked.

"Shut it, Malfoy." Harry sounded terribly annoyed. He knew Draco was well aware of who Arthur was, they hadn't been inside for more than five minutes and it was already obvious to Harry that the other boy wanted to start trouble.

"Can't take a joke, Potter?"

"It's not funny."

With a flick of his wand Harry levitated his things and sent them upstairs. He climbed after them, Draco in tow.

"Well then, fine. I guess the boy who lived doesn't laugh. I suppose then you'll be polite enough to show me my room. When do you suppose you'll have supper ready? I assume you lack house elves."

Harry felt a headache started and it only got worse when Kreacher appeared with a pop. Draco seemed pleasantly surprised about the grimy little house elf.

" Hello ," Kreacher was trying his damnedest to be polite, even so, Harry felt that elf still might poison his food when he wasn't looking - that was - until Kreacher noticed Draco. The house elf's eyes grew wide and watery as he became encumbered with joy. Those dirty little hands clasped together as the terrible little house elf graciously bowed.

"Oh my! Is it the little Malfoy?" The sickening tone in Kreachers voice made Harry gag a little.

"Oh, why yes." Of course Draco had to be pompous about it, of course he'd eat it up.

If it weren't for Kreachers highest respect for the descendants of Black he might've hugged Draco. "Oooh, I can see it in you! You have the look of your father but the poise known to the black family. Very good blood in you, very good." Kreacher shot Harry a nasty look before returning his adoring gaze to Draco. The house elf got down on one knee, graciously bowing for the second time as he spoke, "It will be a pleasure to serve you, , the greatest Kreacher has known for some time. Kreacher will go get dinner ready, don't you worry!" With that Kreacher was gone.

"Now _thats _more like it." Draco smirked.

"Your room is whichever one you want," Harry changed the subject, "just not this one." Sirius' old room was off limits to Draco. It was too sacred a place for Draco to sully. The room was like it had been when he and Hermione had cleaned it. There was little dust, thankfully, and nothing seemed disturbed. The crimson canopy over the bed still looked new, and the posters on the wall still moved as though nothing had ever happened, as though their owner had never died. Harry took a deep breath and pushed past the threshold. To him, staying in the room might help him deal better with the loss of the closest thing to a parent he had ever known. As much as he never wanted to let go, it was something he had to do before he moved on. The challenges a head required his all, regret was something he didn't have time for.

* * *

It wasn't his ideal summer, either, not by any means. Staying in some dark, hardly decorated, and dilapidated town house. It may had been nice at some point in time but that age had come and gone, and here he was practically living in a hovel. Malfoy's_ didn't _ live in hovels, though Draco supposed it was much better than death; definitely more temporary.

Once his trunks were sorted through and enough clothes unpacked Draco took the time to work on making his room

as presentable as possible. Any neglected drapes were magically mended, dirty floor boards scoured, and his bed neatly dressed. It was fate that his room was already coordinated in silver and green. Even the wallpaper, peeling or not, was an ornate pattern of a darker green on a lighter. It was enough to make him feel at home, probably the only comfort he would know all summer.

The sun had set and his room grew dark, a single candle was lit and the faint light barely illuminated the large space. Collapsed on his bed from both fatigue and boredom, the blond had begun to slip away. His eye lids felt so heavy it seemed almost worthless to bother keeping them open, and it didn't help that the bed he was given was terribly comfortable. A sudden knock on the door startled him, his eyes flashed open and naturally he desired to throw something large and heavy at the door.

"Dinner."

It was Harry on the other side of the door, it disoriented him at first, but soon he began to focus and grasp onto where he was and what was happening. The lithe boy slid from the bed and headed for his first open chest. He had been at Grimmauld Place for hours and for some reason beyond his own comprehension he had not changed out of his uniform. Quickly the blond exchanged a collard shirt and charcoal slacks for a ribbed black turtleneck and matching slacks. He slipped on the same dress shoes he had on before, deeming them appropriate for the evening. Quickly Draco tamed his bangs in front of the large full length mirror before darting downstairs for supper.

Harry had already served himself by the time Draco found the dining room. It was a bit cramped for his taste, and much too dark as well. A few lamps were lit against the walls and at the end of the room a meager fire place was lit. It was reminiscent of the Slytherin common room minus the modern charm. It was barbaric in nature and made him feel as though they were hundreds of years earlier in time. Tonight at least, Draco decided not to complain. He took his seat across from Harry, eyeing the room for any sign of Kreacher, the elf was no where to be seen.

"Too bad that charming little house elf isn't here. I could use some table-side entertainment," Draco scoffed as he laid the cloth napkin over his lap.

Harry snorted, unable to laugh with his mouth full. He managed down his rather large spoonful of stew.

"Charming, Malfoy? I think we have different definitions of charming."

Draco reached over the table to serve himself a rather large helping of was looked like bland vegetable beef stew. It wasn't what he expected with such worship from the house elf, but it smelled well enough not to warrant any complaints.

"Well maybe if he worshiped the ground you walked on you'd think he was a little more charming."

Harry shook his head, "No, I don't think so. Kreacher and I don't get along, and I wouldn't want him worshiping me. No thanks."

The first bite was good by any standards, "If anything the elf can cook," Draco commented.

Harry nodded, complying. The rest of the meal was awkward at best, occasionally the boys spoke but the conversation never really went anywhere at all. If it were not for their trained table manners there probably would have been nothing but the sound of their spoons scraping the bottoms of their bowls. They had finished conveniently at the same time, and when they got up they left behind their empty dishes for Kreacher to clean.

"Well, I'm off to bed. Night," Harry said curtly.

Draco made a sour face, a familiar crinkle on his nose relaying his disapproval, "without a shower? Really now, that's just unhygienic."

The raven haired boy shrugged, "I showered this morning. Anyways, night." Harry dismissed himself to his room and Draco watched as he shut the door behind him. While Harry refused a nightly shower, Draco could not sleep without it. He gathered his bathing products and black pajamas and headed to the surprisingly luxurious bathroom for a hot shower. Unlike most boys his age, Draco took his time. The shower was a place of relaxation and deep contemplation. Beneath the steady stream of water he found it easiest to think about the hardest. For instance, this night he thought about his mother. He did not tell her he would not be coming home for summer; infact he had snuck around her at the platform just so that she would not see him at all. In order to stay safe he had to avoid all those connected to the Dark Lord, and she, unfortunately, was one of them. Draco cared very much for his mother, and already he had begun to miss her company. He was well aware of how very worried she would be and hated that he had to do such things. He swore to himself when it was all over he would tell her why, and would hope to god she would accept him back into their home.

Draco stepped into the shower reserved and uneasy, and came out reassured and confident. He dressed in front of the mirror, vainly inspecting himself. It seemed his bangs were interfering with his sight, earlier in the year Draco had decided to grow his hair and now he was paying for it, there was nothing more deplorable then the awkward stage. It was both too long and too short, and all he could do was comb it out of his face and hoped it would stay. Taking one last glance in the mirror was more than enough to sate him before he left for his room. Each board quietly creaked beneath his bare feet, and through the silence he heard something coming from the far end of the hallway. It was hard for him to determine the sound, but he wasn't far off from guessing what he was hearing were stifled sobs.

In the doorway he stood, looking down at the boy who lived. Harry's knees were pulled to his chest and a single candle was lit beside him. The walls were adorned by bewitched tapestries. It was the Black lineage, the family tree. Harry seemed intent on a charred spot near Draco's own mothers, the name beneath it read 'Sirius Black'. Draco only knew the name by legend, from what his parents fed him, and what the paper had said. The vicious muggle killer, the one to betray the Potter family. Why would Harry be crying as though he missed the man if he was truly so bad?

Draco shifted his weight and the floor groaned beneath him. Harry's head snapped back and his green eyes fiercely challenged his own icy blues.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry demanded.

Considering Harry was in a volatile way Draco decided to tread lightly, " I saw a light from down the hall and I came to inspect." A lie, but it was enough to soften Harry if only a bit.

" I didn't know the Black families tree was so large. Most old blood families have them," Draco thought it in his best interest to distract Harry. He did not feel like fighting just now. Infact, he considered that they had the whole summer to spend together, and even if they did not get along completely the least he could do was attempt to be civil. "Ours is much smaller in size, we haven't plastered it on the walls like they have. Though, I do admit, it looks pretty."

Those crystalline hues scoured the walls and eventually found their way back to Harry who was busy doing the same. The other boy was silent as he did this, it was unreadable if Harry detested his company or not. His behavior was more than strange.

"Say, how did you inherit this home? If I'm not mistaken, it should be my Aunts. She's a Black, and as far as I know you are not." Draco could not hide the tone he used, the bit of inflection that implied Harry should not have Grimmauld Place at all, and that he was undeserving of such a place. It wasn't intentional, more or less it was natural.

Harry did not speak for several minutes, an inner battle raged within. To tell or not to tell? It seemed one side of him had one, whichever one it was Draco would never know.

"It was my Godfather's, he had last inherited it, and when he died he wrote it over to me." It was simple, to say the least, but it was an answer. There was no spite in it, but annoyance still lingered.

"Wasn't Sirius Black a murderer? I though he was a traitor to you and your parents, why would you accept this from him?"

It was then Draco overstepped his bounds. Harry, enflamed by the accusation, growled, "he didn't murder _anyone. _You don't know what you're talking out."

Draco stepped back, watching Harry closely, "I didn't mean anything by it, I didn't--"

"--Get out!!"

The blond turned on his heel and returned to his room. It was then he decided he hated Harry for a reason, the boy was emotional and irrational, among other things, and his temper was terribly short. Almost comparably short to his own. As far as Draco was concerned he was proud of himself, not once did he reduce himself to yelling. He was perfectly civil with a boy he had once wished to destroy by any means. By most standards he was even _social, _ Draco supposed stranger things have happened. He hoped – though – that the entire summer did not continue in this fashion. There was far too many days to share, too many days before the semester started to be storming off and spending hours alone staring daggers into the ceiling.

**Authors Note: **So the first chapter is finished. I hope to work from both boys points of view for this story, not sure if it works well. Hopefully I'll get it. Not too much is happening yet.....Well, nothing really _exciting. _Build up is important! I promise a bit of bang in the next chapter! Until then, thanks for reading! R&R's are highly appreciated!


	3. Sneaking out

Things didn't change. The boys saw each other only at meal times, and as of late Harry would take his supper in his room. The house was unusually quiet, and Draco wandered it aimlessly. Staying in his barren room was mind numbingly boring, and on nights like these he wished he had gone home to the Manor despite the consequences.

Harry was downstairs in the dining room with someone Draco couldn't recognize, at least not by voice. Whoever was down there was about as fond of Draco as Harry was, since the blond was never welcomed to join them. This happened twice a week, there was no rhyme or reason to the day someone came; but each time Draco retired to his bedroom, foregoing dinner.

Tonight was a rather somber night, it seemed. Usually Draco could hear Harry laughing with whomever was downstairs through his floorboards, but tonight it was silent. With his ear pressed to the floor Draco heard muffled voices that were more quick and efficient rather than social. He couldn't help but think it had something to do with the Dark Lord, and the part Harry was to play. After a few minutes he heard nothing and he assumed they were speaking just below a whisper. He gave up and sat on the edge of his bed until eventually he surrendered supper and gave in to sleep.

Week after week passed and the pattern began change. Both Harry and Draco were becoming uneasy in their boredom and eventually they found themselves chatting about Quidditch or articles in the Daily Prophet in passing. Harry never mentioned any of his meetings and Draco didn't expect any less. It was funny how extreme boredom drove near enemies to form some sort of pleasant acquaintanceship.

It eventually became regular practice to sit in the parlor together spilling over the old books in the house. They'd flip through pages and on happenstance would run into photographs pressed between the pages. If Sirius Black was in any, Harry laid claim. The rest were left on the coffee table, scowling at the ceiling.

You couldn't say a friendship grew between them, but it was enough to keep one another from being hostile in any way, shape or form. A month passed and things became more relaxed; and as time passed the boys ran out of things to do. Every book had been read and the boys had played wizards chess more times then they could count. Soon every game they played seemed to be consumed by tedium and they knew every move before the other made it. It was then Draco's mind began to wander, and he thought frequently of exploring the city around them, seeing the muggle world as he never had before.

One afternoon the boys were sitting in the parlor, playing another one of their monotonous games of chess when Draco decided to suggest that they ought to go out. Starting the conversation was a game of strategy, one much more interesting then the game before them. So even if Harry decided against going (which Draco was almost sure he would, being the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor that he was,) it wasn't a complete loss.

"So, Potter," Draco began in an airy sort of way. They hadn't made it to first-name-basis quite yet, "having been here before, have you seen much of London?"

Harry gave Draco a peculiar look, "No, I haven't." The dark haired boy paused, moving his knight. He looked back up at Draco who was feigning the worst polite curiosity expression he had ever seen. Harry thought he looked pained, "why?"

Draco shrugged, rubbing his chin a moment before moving his piece to combat Harry's knight. "No reason, really."

Harry gave him a recognizable 'I'm not stupid, I know you're up to something' look, which Draco instantly related to the sort of look his mother gave him whenever he approached her with any sort of offhand compliment and sweet smile.

"I've never seen much of London, just the bit before going to Diagon Alley and the train station. I can't help but be curious."

"No," was Harry's immediate reaction. He knew what Draco wanted, and he thought it was an awful idea.

"No?" Draco tried to pretend that he had no idea what Harry meant, "I didn't ask any questions. What are you saying no to?"

Harry defeatedly quit playing chess and let his hands sink into his lap, Draco was winning anyways.

"Don't play innocent, Malfoy. I see right where this is going. You want to go out, go see London. Well that sounds fine and well enough until we run in to death eaters on the street. What are we going to do then?"

Draco gave up the game, pushing aside innocence for his most convincing tone, "You think we'll run in to death eaters that easily? They'll be mingling among the muggle shoppers sipping on fizzy drinks and nibbling on sweets?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little at the image of Death Eaters sipping on bright colored drinks, colorful muggle bendy straws poking through the small mouth on the mask, little paper umbrella's included. "You've got a point."

Harry paused a moment, further imagining the cloaked minions of Voldemort with strung flower necklaces around their necks, lounging on beach chairs in full black robes. Harry quickly chased the image away, assuming his role of responsible boy hero once again, "but I still think it's a bad idea. We've been told not to go out."

"We? We? I haven't had one person tell me not to go out, not a single one."

Harry frowned, Draco was right. The order had little concern for Draco, they still didn't trust him, so they hardly spoke to him if at all. Harry was forewarned for the both of them.

"Well... Just because they haven't said it to you personally doesn't mean they haven't said it."

Draco shrugged and leant back in his chair, he combed flaxen strands back away from his face with a single hand, it was his form of a nervous twitch, however elegant and composed it looked. Being cooped up in a stale house with none of his trappings aside from what he had brought with him to school left him a hair's length away from cracking. Being the spoiled boy he was, he was used to being taken out almost daily, dining in fine wizard establishments and shopping just as often. This sudden lifestyle change left him frustrated and a little stir-crazy.

"I'm bored though, you can't tell me you aren't too." Draco met Harry's eyes across their abandoned game of chess.

Harry who was a teenage boy before anything else was becoming more convinced by Draco then he should have been. It'd been three weeks since anyone had last visited him, let alone owled, and left alone with only Draco Malfoy for company and entertainment was hardly his idea of fun. Perhaps getting out if only for an hour would do them both good, satisfying any urges they might have.

It was only muggle London, right? Harry figured the chances of seeing Death Eaters roaming the muggle streets were pretty low, and the more he thought about it the more he had to fight his conscience, who happened to sound a lot like Hermione Granger. Draco across from him was allowing a smug sort of smile curl at his lips, he could tell Harry was starting to give in from the conflicted look in his green eyes.

"I am, but I still don't feel like it's a good idea." Harry still clung to his reluctancy. His conscience kept telling him no, while his boyish nature fought to go against rules and against responsibility. After several more minutes of quiet contemplation Harry went against himself, "fine, let's go."

Draco grinned from ear-to-ear. He had won, as he hoped he would. The two boys dressed for the outing separately. Harry wore his best fitting zip-up sweater he had an a pair of dark wash jeans. He fussed to make sure there weren't too many fly-aways and lint balls, and decided then his hair wasn't worth any kind of work at all. It had a mind of its own, and it was best to go with it than fight against it. Before ducking out of his room Harry slipped his fathers cloak into the barely forgiving pocket of his sweater.

Draco dressed in all black, down to his shiny patent leather shoes. Not totally disregarding color, Draco wore a red collared shirt under his black sweater, lapels tucked. Watching his reflection in the bathroom mirror he combed his long disheveled hair out of his eyes, slicking it back with a bit of product. Harry poked his head in the door, taking a quick look at his tidy looking companion. Harry felt terribly unkempt by comparison.

"I'm ready, I'll be in the parlor."

Draco shifted his gaze in the mirror to look at Harry but the dark haired boy was gone before he could spot him. Draco swept his hands over his platinum strands making sure to pat down any strays. Once he was satisfied he straightened his collar and took to posing before deciding he was completely satisfied. Draco whom never left without his wand, tucked his hawthorn into the most inconspicuous spot he could think of, his sock. While uncomfortable he felt safe having it.

Harry could hear Draco prancing down the stairs from a mile away, it was the curse of old homes; one could hear even a mouse tip-toe. Harry left the parlor where he was trying to entertain himself by flipping through _Quidditch Through the Ages_, which he had read more times then he would have liked over the past weeks. Draco met him by the door and disdainfully glanced over Harry's ill-fitting and hardly fashionable muggle wear and he half hoped that was how most muggles dressed-so he wouldn't have to be embarrassed.

"Harry, really. I hope you don't buy your own clothing," Draco was never much for holding his tongue.

Harry wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses up in response, "Don't even start."

Harry, against all last minute regrets opened the door of Grimmauld place, stepping down the short stone stoop with Draco in tow, whom complained about the dreadful colors and worn fabric of Harry's sweater, and all together wardrobe of the summer thus far. Harry tuned him out and wondered if this was Draco Malfoy's twisted way of warming up to him.

Neither of them had been outside in weeks, it felt strange and though the skies were gray they both had to shield their eyes until they adjusted. The house behind them disappeared into it's neighbors and the boys didn't bother to look back. The excitement of being outside was enough to keep them from gazing back at the magical sight behind them. The late afternoon was warmer than anticipated, but the oncoming dusk would bring a slight chill that would make them thankful for having long sleeves.

They walked the first two blocks in silence. The streets were decently busy with shoppers and couples out on dates. Harry admired cafe's with outside seating while Draco stopped, looking into a store window with a display of manikins dressed much like himself. He gave them an appreciative nod. "I guess muggles don't dress too bad, don't know what that says about you, though, Potter."

Harry shook his head, "If the whole world dressed like you, Malfoy, I might have to fly my broom over the channel and jump right off.''

Draco moved on and Harry hurried to follow. Draco glanced back, "And if the whole world dressed like you, Potter, I might die on the spot from corduroy overload."

Harry rolled his eyes, mumbling something on the topic of not having bought any of his own clothes, and something else about hand-me-downs from someone named Doddles or something. Draco was far too busy eyeing a rather picturesque cafe' as they approached. The large glass windows glowed orange from inside, the dark blue crush settling over the city causing it to illuminate their every feature.

Draco took in a deep breath, pleased just simply to be outside. Though he could help the growl in his stomach as he watched muggles munch on fresh baked goods while sipping on hot coffees and teas. Draco took note of the first moment in his life that he wished for muggle money.

Harry pulled a wad of mushed up notes from his pocket and Draco, unfamiliar with the sound of paper money, gave him a curious look.

"You have muggle money?"

Harry didn't expect any less from Draco. "Yes, a little. I'm a bit hungry and I thought we might be able to get something to eat while we're out."

Draco grinned, "Nice work, Potter. You're turning out to be quite the host."

It was in Harry's nature to roll his eyes at Draco. He almost regret telling Draco he had any money at all when the blond boy ordered at least three treats and the largest flavoured coffee the place offered. Harry, who did not share his counterparts obvious love of sweets purchased for himself a strong black tea and a plain sugar cookie. They both shared a table window side, and quietly snacked. They hadn't much table conversation, considering they hadn't much to talk about to begin with.

Draco stared curiously out the window, scowling when a particularly atrocious looking muggle passed, and every now and then the boys spotted a wizard trying to blend in. Which was of course a little more obvious to Harry whom had lived most of his life among very straight-laced conservative dressed muggles. They finished and Draco whined a bit about having to take care of his own trash. Harry was getting used to Draco's constant complaints and had developed and unconscious method of tuning him out.

On the narrow side walk once more they headed down the strip in the opposite direction of Grimmauld Place. Both boys were far from finished with their outing. "I want to see a muggle shop, not a clothing one. That's _dull. _I want to see one with contraptions, something interesting," Draco went on further but Harry could only shrug. He stopped in spot scanning the area for a home-appliance shop figuring that was the sort of place Draco was hoping to see. Just seconds before he opened his mouth to tell Draco he had found one he might like the usually distant boy clamped down on his shoulder.

"Harry, we've got to run."

Harry glanced at Draco, although he was a usually pale boy it wasn't hard to see that all the color had run from his face. Harry followed Draco's horror-struck stare to a pair of determined looking folks in heavy black cloaks. Wizards, of course, Harry suspected as much would happen. He latched onto Draco's arm and they disappeared into a crowd of people watching a group of performers on the street corner. Just over the shoulder of a portly woman Harry could see one of the weathered wizards on his tiptoes scanning the crowd for them.

"Into the alley there," Harry pointed at Draco who glanced in that general direction.

"Are you _mad?_ They'll spot us for sure, during the dash."

Harry placed his hand in his pocket pulling out the corner of the invisibility cloak, he gestured to Draco who nervously looked down between his startled glances. "Okay, fine, you first," Draco said, shifting out of sight from the men whilst ducking behind the rotund woman. Harry wordlessly took a run for it, his fist caught in the silvery fabric of the cloak. Draco turned to look at Harry seconds after and noticed he had already gone without as much as a 'now'. The blond cursed under his breath and took off after him as quickly as he could.

Draco skid into Harry who timely threw up the cloak over both of them. While it was large it wasn't long enough to cover them completely with them each standing. "Duck!" Harry whispered and both boys dropped down, eyes out on the crowd looking out for the two wizards.

In seconds the men ran to the mouth of the alley and peered in. The dark-haired dopey looking one swore, "I thought I saw 'em run this way, sorry boss." The second man, more sinister with gray streaked hair and a hardened face scanned the alley for any inconsistencies, when he was convinced the boys couldn't be hiding he turned to his counterpart, "Lets go, we have to find them quick."

Harry and Draco waited several minutes in silence. Beneath the cloak they could hear the sounds of the street performers and the faint inhale and exhale of each others breath. If they hadn't been so worried they would have noticed that they were nearly joined together at the hip and shoulder. Harry was the first to speak, "I wonder who they are."

Draco kept his steady silver gaze on the passing crowd, "I didn't know the dark haired guy but the one with the gray hair is a death eater, McCollin. I've seen him a few time at my Fathers." Harry felt somewhat uneasy. Draco's connection with the death eaters hadn't been on his mind for weeks, he knew he associated them but he had preferred to think the guy he was forced to live with for the summer wasn't in any way affiliated with any of the horrible things that had happened to him during the last six years, or his whole life for that matter.

"I think it's safe," Harry said, finally noticing just how close he was to Draco. He stood up and the blond followed. Harry tucked the cloak back into his pocket and peaked around the corner. The coast was clear enough so he motioned for Draco to follow him and as quickly as they could they made it back. Inside they both felt a little better. Harry felt his pulse finally slow. He glanced at Draco whom looked drained still.

"Well that was interesting," Draco mentioned as he pulled off his sweater now that they were inside. Harry watched as the tight collar pushed up Draco's pale hair and yanked his shirt to expose a bit of midriff. Slightly flustered Harry looked away quickly unzipping his own sweater.

"I knew it was going to happen, we shouldn't have gone. Now they know where we are." Harry found himself quite upset, growing even more so as he wandered into the living-room.

Draco followed with a half shrug, "Don't you think they knew we were here to begin with? They were keeping a lookout after all."

While Draco may have had a point Harry could hardly agree with him, on principle. "_Sure, _they had an idea of where we might be. They didn't know for sure, well at least until tonight." Harry sat in an empty armchair, a serious frown setting in.

Draco stood near a window, peeking out through the gossamer curtains. The dark-haired wizard was just outside near the wrought iron fence, he was watching steadily. He couldn't help but feel like the wizard was watching his every move although he knew otherwise. Draco let the curtain fall back into place.

"They're out there, aren't they?"

"One of them," Draco said, not really wanting to.

Harry cursed under his breath, "That's it, we can't go out, not again. We shouldn't have gone."

Somehow Harry struck a nerve in Draco, he turned from the window, "Just drop it, Potter. No use crying about it now. It's already done."

Harry's mouth flattened into a line. He didn't much care for Draco telling him to do anything even if he _did_ have a point. Harry Potter just didn't agree with Draco Malfoy, not ever. His green eyes flashed up meeting Draco's cold silver across the room. "Sod off, Malfoy. It's your fault."

Draco some what offended retaliated. "Oh it's my fault you're Harry _bloody _Potter. Can't walk the streets without someone recognizing the boy who lived," his tone when from serious to condescending quick.

"Oh, right, I'm the recognizable one? I blend in with muggles, You and your white hair stick out like a sore thumb. The damn guy was one you knew from your fathers for crying out loud." Harry knew the point he was making was absolutely moot.

"My hair is not _white. _God Potter, you're an idiot. You're just arguing to argue." Draco crossed his arms, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Yeah, well now I'm going to bed." Harry said firmly before heading past Draco to his room. He crashed into his bed almost immediately, scooting under the covers. He regret blowing up almost as soon as he stepped in the room. It was obvious even to him that he sounded like a fool. He retraced the events, getting caught, running, that familiar panic that seemed to follow him almost every where he went. He was beginning to get used to running and hiding. Harry wasn't sure that was a particularly good thing or not, but he figured with the way things were going for him it could be worse. Briefly before he fell asleep his mind wandered to the moment in the alley just after the death eaters left. Somehow he reminiscently felt the warmth of Draco just beside him, their staggered breath in the moment of panic, the heat shared between them under the cloak. It made him squirm uncomfortably and he rolled onto his side pulling his pillow over his face. He banished the thoughts as quickly as they came and fell asleep.

**Authors Note:**

Ah! god, it took me WAY too long to write this. I am so bummed. I had started to work on it during my winter break between semesters and ended up writing this set during christmas, luckily I didn't actually post it because the previous chapter set it in summer, which I didn't notice until I opened it again this summer. UHG. The school year was my senior in college so it was REALLY busy, so I couldn't work. So here you go, a chapter that practically took me a year to write. JESUS. 3


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